


A kiss...

by Wrathofscribbles



Series: Kisses... [13]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, lunyx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 15:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16222040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: ... to distract.





	A kiss...

**Author's Note:**

> **Big bold reminder that Final Fantasy XV and all of its content is property of Square Enix.** I just like to play in the sandpit they've created for the fans.

_Listen_ , she asks of him and so he does, to the quiet of the world and the whisper of wind through the leaves above, the patter of rain sliding off them to the ground below and landing in fat drops on his head, slicking through his hair in a matter of minutes and plastering Luna’s to her skull, and even soaked as she is, she looks _radiant_. 

He listens to the ominous rumble of thunder in the distance, prowling after the clouds bursting overhead, and would scowl at the sky if he could, at the Astral hidden somewhere up there, gracing the world with his presence _now_  when it was needed so long ago.  He could have intercepted the Niflheim invasion, he could have struck the Chancellor down the _moment_  his foot touched Insomnian soil, he could have turned Leviathain into fried calamari for being such a _bitch_ , he could have struck Izunia with one of his famed lightning bolts and saved Luna the knife in her stomach, the twist of it coming loose, he could have reached a hand down to the roiling sea and scooped her out of a watery grave before it sealed around her.

Nyx has no love for Ramuh.  _None_.  Going to the Chosen’s aid didn’t excuse leaving the Oracle to die at every goddamn turn.  That any of the gods think they can show face now and be respected, _worshiped,_ when they sat on their asses and did absolutely fuck-all for _years -_

Cold fingers slide over his cheek, the only warning he gets before Luna’s pressing close and backing him up until he’s trapped between her warmth and a tree, escape cut off when her other hand settles on his shoulder and plucks at sodden fabric like she means to peel the shirt from him and this - it’s - dangerous territory he hasn’t let his mind wander to since that night on the roof, charmed out of silence by her questions and what steel lay beneath her smile, to have survived Niflheim all this time.

“Luna -”

“You think too much, Nyx,” she says, cutting him off with voice as well as touch as those fingers follow the line of his jaw and her thumb plays over the trails on his skin and she catches a water droplet at the corner of his mouth and smears it over his bottom lip and - _gods above and below_  he’s weak to her whims, the light in her eyes, the playful curve of her smile - and he dips down to kiss her, lays his hands on her back and spreads his fingers wide, tucks her in close as she says his name on an exhale he steals with his next breath.

He forgets his ire with the gods soon enough, too caught up in the feel of her, the taste of her, the strength in her, the magic coming to life under her skin and buzzing everywhere he touches until he swears there’ll be constellations on her back if he was peer over her shoulder and follow the path of his fingers.  But Luna isn’t one to be denied, nipping at his lip when he draws back and -

_“Eyes on me, Nyx.  Only on me.”_

\- there’s no stopping her.

* * *

She steals one of his jumpers, all but swaddles herself in the brown hideousness of it as she curls up on the sofa and tucks her feet under Umbra’s rump, content to strain her eyesight and read by the light of the fire until he goes around turning on the lamps she doesn’t care for, meeting his scowl with a sunny smile before burying her nose in the pages.

He can kiss her now, he knows, can deviate from his destination and drop a kiss to damp hair and another to her mouth if she tips her head back to receive him and the hands he can lay on her shoulders, her neck, slide down over her stolen garment in wicked tease until she shrieks and squirms and whacks him for the tickling.  He can, and he will in a minute, so long as he doesn’t see shadows tearing themselves from the grounds, doesn’t hear the groaning wails of daemons rousing from slumber, so long as he peers through the tear tracks down the windows and doesn’t have a face of nightmares reflecting back at him when the next lightning strike hits.

It’s been months of peace, of that quiet Luna had him listen to earlier, months of the Scourge burning up in daylight and retreating from the land one sunrise after another after another, months since the teary reunion with Noctis and the return of the Trident to her possession.

But a habit of lifetime is a difficult one to break, and so he stands guard, silent as he watches, waits for the illusion to pass, struggles to breathe deep when it doesn’t, still can’t quite believe it.

 _It’s over_.


End file.
